


poison

by justsleepwalkin



Series: Coldwaveweek2016 [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action, Angst, Blood and Violence, Bonding, Explicit Language, Future Fic, Horror, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsters, Rated For Violence, happy ending for most of the characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsleepwalkin/pseuds/justsleepwalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, focus,” he hisses to himself, trying to get back to his feet while holding his blood in. He can hear the creature crunch through wood and knows it's getting ready to charge again. His mind spins away from him. He sees the bulk of the monster and urges himself to move and maybe get back to where he lost the cold gun.</p><p>Coldwaveweek2016 | Day 5: Monster/Magic/Meta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	poison

**Author's Note:**

> This really got away from me. Which is funny because the two days I struggled the most with (Earth-2, and today) are the ones that exploded into something more.
> 
> Rated M for violence. I wavered back and forth on the rating but I decided it was better safe than sorry. So, it might be under that.

Savage pushes Rip deeper into mud, determined to entrap him six-feet under, but the real trap is for Savage himself. Above, Kendra dives down, wings splayed. Her dagger buries through Savage's back, past his spine, through his ribs. Savage yells. Contorts. His muscles shrink in on themselves. He bites down an Ancient curses of anger. Kendra holds the dagger in place, even as Savage thrashes. 

Rip eases into the mud, relieved for the first time in a _long_ time as his looks into Savage's dying eyes. The tip of Kendra's dagger prods out of his chest. Savage's blood drips from it, almost black, collecting on Rip, but he can't find it in him to be bothered.

* * *

Len wakes to too many voicemails on his phone, which is disorienting in itself, since his Rogues aren't foolish enough to call him when he's trying to sleep. He checks his missed calls, first. Kendra, Ray, Stein. 

None of them make any sense, words babbled too fast. The most recent, however, is a simple plea for him to go to STAR Labs as soon as possible. “It's too early for this crap,” he mumbles. He dresses and tosses on his black jacket and takes his cold gun with him. Like hell he's walking into STAR Labs defenseless.

The Flash's band of do-gooders better not shoot him.

* * *

“I'm really not comfortable having him here,” Cisco says, keeping across the room from Len.

“And I'm not really comfortable having you getting busy with my sister, but neither of us can get what we want, hm?”

“Oh god,” Cisco says, “Barry he's gonna kill me.”

“I don't think he's going to kill you, Cisco,” Barry says from his chair.

“I'm thinking about it, though.” Len grins and watches Cisco shrink back further. “Will someone please start talking sense?” Len addresses his gathered team. “Because not one of you left me a voicemail that had any.” It doesn't escape his notice that the three present—Ray, Kendra, and Stein—each look horribly mangled.

“Rip's gone evil,” Ray says. 

Len laughs. “Bullshit.”

“It's true,” Stein argues. “He... He did something to Jax. And Sara. And Felicity. Targeting the people closest to us. It turned them into _monsters_. _Actual_ ones, not metaphorical.”

Len levels a glare towards Cisco, and he brings up his hands in defense. “Look, man, I already called your sister. She's fine. She's better about answering her phone than you are.”

He eases. “Good.” He sighs. “So, Rip's gone evil. Why?”

“His blood,” Kendra says suddenly. 

“Who's blood?” Ray asks. 

“Savage's,” Kendra whispers.

“Savage is dead,” Len reminds her.

“No—well, yes, but—when I killed him. He bled black blood. He bled on _Rip_.”

“What? You think that has something to do with it?” Ray asks. “But I thought... doesn't an immortal's blood just... add to someone's lifespan? Not turn them into a crazed monster.” He shudders, remembering.

“ _Drinking_ an immortal's blood,” Kendra argues. “This is different. And Savage's blood was black at the time. Maybe he cursed it. Or maybe something changed because he died.” 

“Come _on_ ,” Len drones. “No. It wouldn't surprise me if even in his death, Savage is making our lives miserable, but are we _really_ going there?”

“It's better than thinking Rip lost his mind and went on a warpath. Targeting _us_ ,” Stein sighs.

Ray nods. “Revenge.”

Len presses his palms against his eyelids. “Okay. So what happened to our... monstrous friends.”

“They're locked in the pipeline,” Caitlin says, stepping up next to Cisco. “I've been trying to run tests, but they're proving to be insusceptible to anesthesia. But knowing a potential cause helps; I'll do tests on their blood, maybe it's something we can drain out of their system. Barry, can you help me?”

He moves to follow her. “Yeah, Cait.”

“There's still one problem,” Kendra says, looking at Len. 

“What?” Len asks. “Lisa's fine.” They're all staring at him and it gets on his nerves. 

“Isn't there...” Kendra continues, hesitant, “anyone else you care for?”

“No.” He folds his arms and leans against the wall. 

“What about... What about Mick?” Ray asks. He's pointedly not looking at Len.

Len's arms tighten, his gaze hardened. “Mick's dead,” he says coolly. “As you all are _well aware_.”

The silence continues to permeate before Kendra tries again, “You took a lot of breaks while we traveled, to... pull heists. In Central City.”

He needs to get out of this room. “What of it?” he snaps.

“You never actually pulled any,” Stein says. 

“Excuse me?”

Ray takes a step back, the first one to catch Len's change of stance from defensive to offensive. “Look. I don't know why you're still trying to hide it right now, Len. This is actually the first time any of us have said anything. We didn't talk about it, ever. But... But if _all of us_ come to the same conclusion, than Rip is bound to have, too.”

Len's arms drops and the terror that he's been trying to hold back floods through him. “He wouldn't... He wouldn't know where to look,” he tries, tries to convince _himself_.

“We always landed in the same outskirts of the city,” Stein whispers. “With the _Waverider_ and Gideon no doubt still listening to him, despite the things he's done... I'm afraid that he _could_ find Mr. Rory.”

“I...” Ice fingers wrap around his lungs, making it hard to breath. The room spins. “I have to go.” He turns.

“Wait!” Kendra rushes to him. “I'll come with you. Sara almost killed me. I'm not letting you face that alone.”

Len flinches away from her touch, ready to refuse her, but he slowly eases. They're a team, still. “It's a long drive,” he tells her. “And then still quite a ways from there.”

“It's okay,” she answers, grimacing. “I could use it to help clear my head.”

At least it'll help one of their heads.

* * *

They take a cab to the outskirts of Central, as far out as roads can get them. Then it's a walk of several miles until they reach the wood line of the vast forest, stretching out over the tumbles of hills and cliffside. “Now, it gets a little easier,” he explains to her, leading her over underbrush and the complex root system to a small shed. 

He unlocks the double-doors and flings them open. “I had a snow mobile in the winter,” he tells her. “But this? Great for this time of year.” He step back and reveals the deep-blue ATV. “Not exactly for two people, but I suppose you can fly if you need to stretch your legs.”

“All this...” She shakes her head. “Why did you hide it from us, Len?”

“Reasons like this, I suppose,” he whispers, head down. “Protection. But I guess it doesn't even matter, if Rip found out, anyway.”

“They're going to find a cure, Len.”

He nods, and moves inside to get the bike ready. “Mick's got a cottage in the literal middle-of-nowhere. It took us some time to really get it set up and livable. But it's damn nice, now.” 

She keeps out of the way as he eases the ATV out of the shed. “Alright, let's go find Mick.”

He thinks they both hate the silence after that. He knows whenever she flies back down to join him on the back of his ride that she looks strained, the emotions getting to her. He knows he isn't doing much better. He can trick himself. Try to, anyway. Think maybe Rip didn't get to Mick. 

He parks at another shed, dumping his helmet down on the seat. They still have about a ten minute walk, but he never drives right up to Mick's doorstep. 

“You never said what Sara... became.” Len peers over at Kendra and has to wonder if it's the shadows of the trees, or if Kendra truly looks haunted. “Never mind, forget I asked. I'll assume she wasn't a canary with fangs.”

“She... there was a beauty to her. Still the graceful assassin. She'd hit me, then escape to the shadows. Wait, then strike again. I could never tell where she was coming from. She... She nearly broke both my wings, but in doing so, I think some of her true self bled through? Because she stopped. She restrained herself and I got the advantage.”

“I'm surprised Stein survived Jax. Heck, I'm surprised Rip didn't go after Stein's wife.”

“The professor had Barry's help. And I think... Well... Rip going after Jax, that's sort of two birds, right?” She kicks at a rock. “When was the last time you saw Mick?”

“About a week or two ago. I've been... trying to get my affairs in order. So that I could just stay out here, with him, you know?”

“Why not invite him back to Central City?”

Len shakes his head. “This environment's mellowed him out. He still burns things, sure, but that _need_ doesn't have a hold on him, like it did. Central's too... It's too overstimulating. I think he'll backslide if he returns, and lose all that hard work.”

She smiles. “So you'll give it up to be with him.”

He smiles back and shrugs a shoulder. “I'd give up anything.”

They continue in a companionable silence, until Kendra draws in a shaky breath. “Do you think... If this is really Savage attacking through Rip... has he gone after Rip's own family?” 

Len hadn't thought about it, and he really wishes he didn't. “You can't think like that, Kendra. There's nothing we can do for them if that's the case, so just... try not to think about it.”

The smell of sulfur laces through the woods and finds them, and they both immediately tense.

“Can you check the sky?” Len asks her. He tries to stifle his panic, and pulls free his cold gun. 

“One moment.” Her wings splay from her back and she's gone and up, flying overhead for a few seconds before landing back at his side. “There's black smoke further out. You said he still burned things on occasion?”

“Yeah, like a fireplace, or paper, maybe a shrub. _Small things_. Not enough for... for...”

“Len! Calm down. Let's go, okay?”

He's not calm, but he follows her.

* * *

Fire snakes out from the remains of the cottage like it has a mind of its own, constantly eating more and more from beyond. The black smoke billows upwards and Len _definitely_ can't find his calm. “ _MICK_!” he yells, frantically searching the area. 

The rubble shifts and a black tail pulls out first, ashes shaking off. The rest of the bulk moves and if it wasn't for his face still being mostly human, Len wouldn't be able to recognize that it was Mick. “Oh _sh_ —” Len makes for a shot with the cold gun, but concentrated streams of flames whip from Mick's nest, burning into Len's arm, and he drops the weapon in pain and surprise.

“Mick!” Kendra calls. “It's _us_!” 

Mick's head cocks in her direction, his eyes red. He pulls himself out of the rubble and moves towards them—this remnant of what used to be Mick Rory, black scales covering most of his body, spines arching out of his back, curving at unsymmetrical angles. Smaller ones litter his legs, his arms. And then there's that fucking tail.

“Of course you'd be a dragon,” Len says, voice pitched high. 

“I don't think he recognizes us, Len...”

And that hurts more than he thought it would. Len fumbles to get his gun back in hand, but the metal's searing hot to the touch and he jerks back from it, swearing.

“Len!”

He looks up at Kendra's exclamation and his eyes widen. How is Mick already—

That tail swings around in a full one hundred and eighty degrees and slams right into both of them, scattering them. Liquid fire seeps out from under Mick's scales, like it's a part of him, and Len's brain shuts down. This isn't fair. Mick's come so far, to have _this_ happen to him? He became something more than his obsession with fire, only to _embody_ it? 

“Mick...” he whispers. “Mick, I'm so sorry.” He startles when Kendra screams, the snakes of fire forming together and latching onto her and throwing her over the tree line. He sees her wings catch her last minute, but she still falls. Mick turns to face Len. “Shit.” He needs his gun for this, so much more than normal, but until it cools down—isn't _that_ priceless—he can't touch it.

He runs, beelining for the direction that Kendra fell.

* * *

He's lost track of Kendra, the liquid-flames obscuring too much, overtaking the woods and disorienting his senses. Len weaves through trees at high speed, breath coming out too fast, his mind too much of a tumbled mess to focus on doing something _smart_. 

Then, that alien creature sideswipes him and takes a chunk of his skin with it. He falls to the ground, knees grinding into blood and dirt. _His_ blood. He heaves a breath and tries to reach up a hand to his side, but the _thing's_ still hunting nearby and a stream of fire billows over him. 

“Come on, focus,” he hisses to himself, trying to get back to his feet while holding his blood in. He can hear the creature crunch through wood and knows it's getting ready to charge again. His mind spins away from him. He sees the bulk of the monster and urges himself to _move_ and maybe get back to where he lost the cold gun.

He turns and sees what used to be Mick Rory.

Kendra lands between them. She stares. “Oh my god...”

“Kendra I need my gun!” he yells at her, strangled. 

She looks at him, horrified. “You're bleeding.”

“Gun. Kendra. Please! It's somewhere near the house!”

She wants to stay, he knows she wants to, but she nods and takes back to the air. 

In her absence, Mick jumps forward and his tail snaps around, catching Len at his legs. He lands stomach-first, palms slamming into dirt, scratching on rocks and twigs. “ _Fuck_ —” he rasps, but the rest of his sentence is cut off as Mick makes another lunge for him and he just barely rolls out of the way.

He lays on the ground, panting, eyes wet, the pain excruciating and bone-deep. If he dies here, maybe Kendra can freeze Mick with the gun, and then get him cured. Mick deserves peace, not life dealing him shit for cards.

A shadow falls over Len and Mick reaches down, his claw sealing over Len's face and cuts off his ability to breath. Len shivers from blood loss and then he's lifted from the ground, neck screaming in pain, and he's through the air, landing on roots. He recoils and holds the side of his head, color blurring through his vision.

God, what's taking Kendra so long? Did a tree fall on the damn thing?

He collects himself. Half-trips and barely catches his footing, back making contact against the smoldering burn of a tree. Mick follows after him. His claws meet Len's shoulders, the tips digging into fabric and pushing into skin, over bone.

“Mick, Mick _don't_ ,” Len moans, trying to pull away. Mick, all fire and brimstone and boiling blood, kisses Len full on the mouth, biting and forcing his way in. There's nothing sweet and gentle about this and Len wonders if this is all he deserves in his life, this brutality, but when Mick's claws finds his chin, he realizes that the he's shaking more than Len himself and in one terrifying moment, Len understands. He remembers what Kendra said, about Sara. 

Mick's still in there, somewhere. 

He could cry.

Len lurches his mouth away from Mick's, taking comfort that at least Mick's face isn't a monstrous beast. “Mick—” he pleads, “stop, please.” Len feels smoke curl around his ear and yeah, now he's crying. He can't fucking do this.

The sound of his gun's whir reaches him. Then, Mick's screeching and tearing away from Len, tail coiling in front of him to shield himself from the blast of cold. Kendra, wings mantled around her, both hands gripping at the weapon, holds it steady and keeps firing. The liquid-fire dribbles from Mick's scales and jets out, steaming into the cold, winning.

“ _Mick_!” Len yells. He falls to his knees. His vision cuts out again for another several seconds. “Mick, look at me! You don't want to do this!”

The fire cuts out and Mick _does_ look at him. Kendra waits for the gun to recharge. 

“This isn't you,” Len continues. “You're so much better than this.”

This time, the cold hits right into Mick's unprotected side. He shrugs it off at first, but then his motions become sluggish, and then he's on the ground, simmering, unconscious. 

Len blacks out.

* * *

“Look who's finally deciding to be conscious.”

Len fights to open his eyes. “Sara?” he asks, throat dry. He turns his head and there she is, sitting up on a cot, facing him. She has bandages anywhere there's skin. 

“In the human flesh,” she answers, smiling. 

“How long...?”

“About a day and a half. Mick really went to town on you.”

“Is he...”

“He's better off than you, actually. Doctor Snow gave us all some significant blood transfusions. We sort of changed back after that. Rip had injected us, what we now know, with Savage's blood. It spread throughout our bodies and poisoned us. I'll tell you, it's one thing to think I used to be a monster, and another to _actually_ be a monster.”

“Kendra called you beautiful.”

That startles a smile onto Sara's face. He counts it as a win.

“What about Rip?” he asks.

“What _about_ him?” Jax counters, entering the room with the rest of the team; _this_ time they're complete. “Do _you_ have a time ship?”

“I wonder how hard it is to build one...” Ray muses.

Jax stares at him. “Seriously?”

“What? Oh, or maybe if we try to screw with the timeline, the other Time Masters will come to us, and we can get their help!” 

“ _No_ , Ray, please don't,” Stein says.

“Well, we have to do _something_. We might all be okay now, but he's gotta still be suffering, not to mention his family...”

“Raymond, we can't just go gallivanting off together,” Len says. His eyes find Mick's in the group, and he's pleased to see no sign of any scales or fire. “Rip's probably not even in this timeline.” 

Kendra looks at Len, recognizing the strain there. “And some of us just need a break,” she whispers.

He glances at her, grateful. “Look, if you guys need my help bad enough, call. Otherwise...”

“I burned my house down,” Mick grumbles. 

He more than burned it down, Len thinks, he practically liquefied it. “I'll help you build a new one.”

“Oh! We can all help!” Ray offers cheerfully. 

“Yeah, it's the least we can do,” Sara agrees. 

Len shrugs. “It'd get it done faster.”

* * *

Rip is a distant problem that none of them can do anything about; building a new house for Mick? That's easier. Having rich friends also makes getting to the location easier, too, since Len doesn't need to hide the fact that Mick is still alive anymore. 

Him and Mick are in the middle of the kitchen's construction when he asks, “How much do you remember while you were a dragon?”

“Don't think I was a dragon, buddy. Don't they have wings?”

“Whatever. How much do you remember?”

Mick shrugs. “Most of it.” 

“So you remember kissing me.”

Mick winces. “Yeah.”

“Was that the beast, or was it you?”

Mick looks him in the eye. “It was me. That a problem?”

Len smirks and approaches Mick, leaning in. “Definitely not.”

Mick assesses him silently, then steps forward, hands on Len's hips, lifting him onto the unfinished counter and stepping between his legs, mouth on his. Len groans and savors it. 

So it's only fair that Ray ruins things by walking in. “Oh. _Oh_. Um. Sorry. I. Wait, we're trying to help you build a house and you guys are—”

“Taking a break,” Len drawls, shuddering under Mick's still-moving hands. “Really appreciate the efforts though, Raymond. But how about you do me a solid and skedaddle, and tell the others to stay outta here for a bit, hm?”

Mick's hands drop low and red creeps up from Ray's neck. “Yes!” he yelps, and then he's off like a shot. 

“Won't be seeing his face again for awhile,” Mick says into Len's neck.

Len hums, fingers pushing underneath Mick's shirt. “Then I think we can take our time.”

* * *

Rip stares up at the fading starlight, eyes empty. He knows there are birds chirping, but all he can hear is the constant hum of his blood, trembling through him, _aching_. Jonas watches him, tears streaking down his face. “What did you do to Mother?” the boy asks him. When Rip doesn't answer, Jonas runs, afraid. 

Rip pulls his gaze from the sky. Staggers. Crumples to the ground. An empty syringe falls out of his hand. He looks at it, certain he should be feeling something, but his mind is unnaturally silent.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning to do more with this another time, likely some continuation, and poking around from the perspective of other characters, Mick especially. And there's just a lot I'd like to touch on, but can't really fit it all into this one piece ;)
> 
> Originally this ended with Mick and Len and then I was like "no that doesn't feel right." So then I added Rip, because it framed the story nicely...
> 
> But then it made it really sad.
> 
> Erm. Sorry.
> 
> Anyway, Mick was more salamander than dragon. I didn't really decide on what the others became lol. Another time.


End file.
